Tales of the River lek (2)

With a quiet thread of guilt, I mounted my bicycle.

When I reached the dike, the wind was already roaring. At first, I could barely climb the slope. The gusts pressed against me, firm and unyielding, as though the river itself had risen to meet me, though not with an easy greeting.

So you are returning, the river seemed to say. It has been a while. Let us see if you are truly committed, it murmured through the rushing air. At that moment I knew this would not be an easy meeting. Today, I would have to work for it.

When I arrived, the wind moved fiercely across the open land, and grey clouds hurried through the sky as though the day itself were restless. Walking down toward the water, I noticed a small gathering of Common Goldeneye ducks. They were circling one another on the surface in a quiet, intricate choreography, their movements delicate against the rough weather.

I paused. For a moment, it felt as though the river was inviting me to linger in that small theatre of life. Yet something in me sensed that this was not where my attention belonged today. As I turned, something else caught my eye. A small wooden sign stood near the path, its surface softened by years of rain and sun. I was surprised I had not noticed it before. The words were simple:

Walking along the Lek?
Please take a moment to clean as you go.

I smiled to myself. Perhaps, I thought, another day I should walk the full length of the riverbank, gathering what has been left behind. A quiet way of returning something to a place that is willing to meet me.

When I finally reached my sitting place, the water was restless. The wind brushed the river, carrying motion to every corner. Small ripples traveled endlessly across the river’s skin, forming and dissolving like my thoughts that refused to settle.